


Toasted Almonds, Apples and Grain

by maureeeen



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Explores Internalized Homophobia a bit, M/M, Mentions of Death of a Loved One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23122915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maureeeen/pseuds/maureeeen
Summary: Geralt is quite in love. He doesn't have much practice, so he gets Dandilion and himself lost in the woods.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 124





	Toasted Almonds, Apples and Grain

Geralt tried not to stare too much.  
He knew that Dandilion wouldn‘t mind, no, he‘d be thrilled, he delighted in anyone‘s attention, be it a man’s, a woman’s, be it one of his friends’ or someone’s twice or thrice his age. He liked it even when he didn't reciprocate it, seemed to bask in it like a bird in the breeze. It made sense, him being a troubadour. Geralt knew it tended to irritate some people, but he himself had always found him too charming for that. It was his wits, he’d determined a few weeks ago.

But it still felt wrong. And he‘d never hear the end of it, either, it would give Dandilion one up on him for as long as they'd be friends.

So he thanked the world for times like these, where Roach, with the man on her back, was a step ahead of himself and he could stare at him without being seen. The sun was just about to set, so everything was golden. Dandilion‘s white blouse was glowing, and his curls, and his bronzed, sunburned skin. If his hair didn‘t move in the wind, Geralt thought, he could pass for a painting. One done of a prince whose father'd paid off the artist to make him twice as pretty as he was.

He stretched then, suddenly, making Geralt jump and avert his gaze toward the ground. Stones on stones and mud and leaves... He only looked back up when Dandilion began to speak, his torso twisted around, arms in the air, back arched. „You think we should set up camp soon?“ He yawned.  
„Yes.“  
Geralt felt his face grow hot, luckily he was quite sunburned himself, and he was sure the light obscured the color of him anyway. „If we keep going East, we‘ll find some-“  
BANG!  
There was a shot, then, Geralt assumed, that startled Roach. She jumped straight into a gallop and Dandilion, who‘d still had his arms up in the air, just barely managed to grab the reins and hold onto the pommel. Had his feet not been firmly in the stirrups, the leap he did out of the saddle would have sent him flying off.  
„Roach!“ Geralt yelled, and he could see, for a few moments before the two disappeared into the bush work, that Dandilion was holding the reins taught and pressing his calves firmly against the horses belly, leaning back. He was doing everything correctly, he wasn‘t a child nor an idiot, he knew how to ride a horse, Roach just seemed to have startled quite badly. It all happened much too fast for Geralt to do any magic. It had surprised him completely as well, as Roach was not a skittish horse, and anyway, she was under a multitude of spells, a few of which were designed to prevent such episodes. 

Geralt couldn’t do much but try his best to follow, but soon, he was alone, and the dull trampling on the forest floor rang out.

„Dandilion?“ He called, now and again, pointlessly. Of course his friend would, the second he’d regained control over the horse, turn around. But he grew nervous because he hadn‘t even gotten to finish telling Dandilion about the meadows in the East, otherwise they could easily meet there, and what else was he to do? “Dandilion!”

Luckily, he heard him call back soon after. It was quite the relief.

“Yes! We’re coming!“

Geralt jogged to where he heard him call from, though his legs and feet were aching and the joints in his knees complained at the sudden shift in speed.

As they came back into sight, they both looked quite disheveled. There were small twigs caught in Dandilion’s hair and in the mare’s mane, and thorns, it looked like, and there were tiny, angry scratches on his face and forearms. 

“What was that about?” Dandilion sounded winded. He looked annoyed more than anything.  
„Is that all?“ Geralt asked, gesturing to his face and the rest of his body. Dandilion looked down.  
„Yes, nothing happened.“  
When they came to a halt before him, Geralt drew a sign into the air in front of Roaches forehead. He pet her, then, her face and her mane, and rid her of some scrub. She seemed perfectly calm to him now.  
„Alright, get off,“ he said, walking around her.  
„What? You‘ll hardly think this was my fault.“  
„I don‘t,” Geralt squinted up against the golden sun piercing through the spaces in between the leaves. “But if she runs off again I don't want to lose you. And we both don‘t fit on that saddle.“  
„Oh.“  
Dandilion did dismount, in what would have been quite an elegant motion weren’t it for his legs shaking with exhaustion.

Roach sighed in relief when Geralt took the saddle off her, and he felt a jab of guilt.  
The saddle, he‘d bought off a man in the South, he‘d never seen one like it, you could fold it neatly into two so that it fit into the bag he carried on his back.  
So he did just that, and then he wondered if Dandilion would be able to mount like this, with his tired muscles and no irons there to help.  
He tried not to smile as he spoke. “Come here,“ he said, stretching out his hands.  
“Hm?“  
“I‘ll help you up.“  
“I can mount a horse.“  
“I know you can. But you‘re exhausted and she just got spooked, floundering around near her won‘t do either of us any good.“  
Dandilion gave him a long, hard look, but seemed to decide that he had nothing to counter that with.  
„For the record, I know better than to flounder,“ he said, as Geralt grabbed him by the waist. “around a skittish horse.” The end of the sentence seemed to get stuck in his throat.  
“Right. There are meadows in the East, in case that’s a misjudgment,” Geralt said, strained, as he struggled to lift him up past elbow-level. “I’ll meet you there.” Geralt was exhausted himself and Dandilion was not a light man, even though he managed to carry himself as though he didn’t weigh more than a feather - he was quite muscular. Dandilion grabbed a hold of the blanket Geralt had left on the horse’s back, and swung his leg over it. Geralt did not risk more than a glance at his arse and the way his grey pants stretched over it. Once seated, though, Dandilion smiled at him like he’d seen it.  
“Hold onto the blanket.”  
“Sure,” he said, amused.  
Geralt grabbed a hold of it in front of Dandilion, who scooted back a bit. He placed the other hand behind his backside and, luckily, managed to pull himself up there without causing Roach too much distress, although it was by no means easy and he bumped into and leaned against his friend more than he’d planned to. He groaned, once seated, and Roach side stepped a bit but seemed to regain her balance without trouble.  
“What’d you call that?”  
“Floundering?” His voice sounded pressed.  
“Quite right.”  
“Alright,” Geralt sighed, when he sat correctly. “Give me the reins?“  
„What? Why?“  
„Isn‘t that how it‘s done? The person sitting in the back holds the reins?“  
„That‘s not a very good reason,“ said Dandilion, kept the reins in his hands, and gave Roach a tap with his calves, causing her to start walking. “We’re going East, yes?“  
Geralt sighed. „Yes. We should start seeing a break in the trees quite soon.“  
“Good.”  
Geralt felt stupid with his hands resting limbly on his thighs, but on second thought, it was good there was some distance between them, because otherwise the thicket in Dandilion’s curls would have scratched up his face. “We need to sort your hair out when we’re there.”  
“Mh, yeah, we do. Of course you could always get started now,“ he said. „While you‘re back there with nothing to do.“  
Geralt was silent. “Or you could give me the reins and sort your hair out yourself?”  
“But I can’t see anything on the back of me.”  
“I’m sure you could feel it out?”  
“And scratch up my hands? When you can see it perfectly well?”  
Geralt sighed. He had to admit to himself that it didn't make much sense but he felt better for having fought it, still. He scooted back a little to give himself a better view.  
“Besides, it’s nice to have someone touch one’s hair.”  
Geralt felt his hands weaken halfway up in the air. "It is."

This was a harder task than one might imagine. Dandilion had a lot of hair and many of the pieces were tiny, Geralt’s fingers big and lazy after the day they’d had, and Dandilion‘s hair was quite coarse, giving the thorns plenty to hold onto. He sighed, trying to get something reminiscent of a thistle blossom out.  
“You should have a maid for this.”  
“D’you want to hire one? And pay her?”  
“Gladly, if you’ve got the money.”  
Dandilion snorted. “Just don’t be so careful. My hair’s constantly knotted anyway, I’m used to it.”  
“Wouldn’t want to pull any of it out, knowing your father,” Geralt muttered, and Dandilion kicked his shin with the heel of his boot. Geralt felt himself smile. Alfred Pankratz was bald as a coot.  
When Geralt was done with one layer, he pulled it up into his left hand and started on the next. Roach was walking calmly along. He had charmed her for strength so her muscles, bones and joints wouldn’t be bothered by the weight of two men, and she wouldn’t startle so badly again.  
It went well for a while. They were already starting to see the trees clear up as Geralt had predicted but nevertheless, they all heard another bang. Geralt had to admit it was very loud, they seemed to get closer, and so off she took, running. Not as fast as before, and she caught herself quickly when Dandilion slowed her down, but Geralt, who had one hand full of the troubadours hair, and two fingers around a stubborn piece of twig, just so managed to get an arm around Dandilion’s waist quickly enough not to fall. Reflexively, he grabbed for the reins. Dandilion huffed in frustration.  
“What is wrong with this horse?“  
“You need to pay attention.”  
“I thought you’d cast a spell!”  
“I did, I don’t know why these bangs are so loud, that doesn’t sound like a regular rifle.”  
"Are we even gonna be able to stop for the night? If she scares like that while we‘re sleeping she‘ll run off and never find us again,“ Geralt could tell Dandilion felt embarrassed for having let her run off.  
"I can temporarily dull her hearing,“ he straightened out his back.  
"Well, how about you do that now?“ Dandilion struggled for the reins, and Geralt gave up, letting his hands fall back onto his thighs.  
"It disorients her. She can‘t walk, I’d have to make her sleep as well.“  
"Ah.“  
Dandilion cleared his throat. "You better hold on, then.“ Geralt could hear the smile in his voice. "We don‘t want you falling off.“  
"No, we don‘t,“ Geralt said, hooking his arm back around Dandilion’s waist. "Or you could give me the reins, if you‘re not gonna hold ‘em taught, or this‘ll happen a third time.“  
"I‘ve got it,“ he said, and picked them up.  
"Keep your legs on her, too.“  
"I know how to ride a horse.“  
"I know, I've seen it. But you‘re not doing it right now.“  
Dandilion straightened his spine, and fell against Geralt with a sigh, dramatic as ever. "You do it, then," he said, and held the reins up closer to his chest so that the witcher could grab them.  
Geralt nodded and took what was offered to him, once again regretfully letting go of the arm around Dandilion's middle. He didn't quite know what to say. Dandilion leaned his head against his clavicle, pushing his hair against his chin and into his face. Geralt wondered if it was as clear to Dandilion as he thought it was, the level of intimidation he felt. He hoped it was, so he wouldn't mistake his reluctance for disinterest, and all the same, he felt horribly ashamed.

The longer they rode for, the more he could feel Dandilion’s body relax, which in turn cost Geralt his focus.  
"How come your hair smells of toasted almonds?" He asked in an effort to keep him awake. And, admittedly, out of curiosity.  
"Does it?"  
There was a smile, clearly, in his voice. "What else?" He sat up a little more straight so Geralt would sniff the crown of his head, which he did. He didn't quite allow himself to bury his whole nose in there, although he did want to. "Apples," he said. "And grain."  
"What else?"  
"Isn't that enough?"  
"There should be two more things."  
"...Rozach."  
"Yes. So, what else?"  
Geralt was unsure if he should tell him, or if he should give it another go at all. Sometimes, the comfort smells these potions conjured up reached a little too far into the past.  
"What does it smell like to you?"  
"Leather," Dandilion said. "salt." He pulled a piece of hair over his nose. "Wood." Geralt heard him breathe in deeply. "A flower. It's very sweet, only blooms in summer, I don't know what it is though.” Geralt wasn’t convinced that was true. “And campfire smoke. Sometimes, grass."  
"'s that why you feel so at home everywhere?" Geralt's voice sounded soft.  
It made sense, for a vagabond, to have something like this on him.  
"Yes. And I think it might be why you feel so at home around me."  
Geralt snorted, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure it helps."  
"What's the other two scents?"  
Geralt pressed his nose against Dandilion's head, then, and closed his eyes, making sure to keep a firm grasp on the reins and around the mare's body.  
"Soap, I think," said Geralt. There was something else, something sweet and clean and warm, that stabbed at his heart. "I can't – have you put it everywhere?"  
"Why?"  
Geralt picked up the hand that lay limb on the blanket in front of Dandilion's thigh, and smelled the back of it, and, when there wasn't anything there but salt, he smelled his wrist. There was a trace of it there, too. He couldn't quite grasp it.  
“I don’t know what to call it or where I’ve smelled it first,” he said, putting his hand gently back.  
"Just my hair," Dandilion said, and Geralt felt embarrassed.  
"Some of it must have gotten on your wrist."  
"Or maybe you like the smell of my skin."  
"I don't think it works like that," he said, half-laughing.  
"Why not? Comforts change. You've known me a while," he said, and moved against his chest.  
"I suppose that makes sense." Geralt heard his own voice quiet. He'd thought this to be one of his jokes. He resumed carefully, not quite knowing how to make room for these words in his mouth. "I've always thought these things come from childhood, but I suppose it might change.. I wonder which scent you replaced."  
He saw his temple move, then, as if he was smiling.  
"Tell me if you find out. I'd love to know if it was an important one."  
"I will."

"...How come one of your childhood joys were toasted almonds? Who fed you those, I thought the upbringing of a witcher is supposed to be quite harrowing and... joyless."  
"I had a friend," Geralt sighed. "Who would steal them from the markets we passed. He always had some in his pockets, even when they got stale and you couldn't eat them anymore. He played with them. His hands were always sticky, everything he touched he covered in sugar and grease."  
"Sounds sweet," Dandilion said, pointed, and Geralt snorted.  
"'d he get caught?"  
"Eventually," Geralt nodded, tired. He felt his eyes sting, he hadn't talked about this in a while but he thought about him all the time, so this was a surprise.  
"What'd they do with him?"  
"What do you do with thieves?"  
"Depends on where you are."  
"I'll leave it to the imagination."  
Dandilion was quiet. "Did you see it happen?"  
"Yes," he sighed. "I did."  
"What was his name?"  
"János was his name."  
Dandilion was quiet for a long time after that. "Were you in love with him?" He asked, then, careful, and his torso grew still.  
Geralt felt his blood run cold. He took a moment to catch his breath. This was a good opportunity to say it. So, he thought, he should. "I think I might have been."  
Dandilion nodded. "I think I would have been, as well, had I been you."  
Geralt shifted a little, suddenly very aware of himself.  
"What did he look like?"  
Geralt felt his forehead crease. "Uh." He wasn't sure why he was pretending to have to think about it. Maybe to give himself some space, because the image of the boy’s face was always on his mind. "Blond hair. Less golden than yours," he said. "more sandy-"  
"Did it end up growing white?"  
"No," said Geralt. "It didn't come to that.”  
“Though that's not a common thing, anyway. Only happened to me and a small handful of others."  
"What else?"  
"His eyes were very brown. Like the fur on the feet of a fox. He wasn't very smart though. And somehow, he managed to get quite chubby even though we didn't get that much to eat – he must have stolen more than I was aware of." Geralt realized. "Huh. Maybe he was smart. He had freckles. His nose was round on the end."  
Dandilion smiled. "Sounds cute."  
"He was."  
"How old was he, when he..."  
"15, I think."  
"Did you two ever… in those lonely nights."  
"No." Geralt shook his head.  
"Not even a kiss?"  
He shook his head again and regretted that he'd have to say it out loud because Dandilion couldn't see. "No."  
"Have you ever kissed another man?"  
He lifted his chin then, slightly, curious.  
"Once or twice," Geralt sighed.  
"When you were drunk?"  
"When I was drunk."  
"Me too."  
"Really?" That snapped him out of his discomfort.  
"Yes, why?"  
And catapulted him right back into it, and quite a lot further in than he'd been before. "I thought – I mean, I would have expected you to uhm – have a bit more experience with that."  
"Would you have?"  
Geralt heard him smile and cursed himself.  
"Yes."  
"Have you thought about it a lot?"  
Geralt felt his face grow very hot. He couldn't quite hold a smile.  
"Have you?" Dandilion moved forward so he could look at Geralt over his shoulder, eyes wide, his mouth open.  
"No, not a lot," Geralt said, forcing himself to hold his gaze. Dandilion looked at his posture, then, and Geralt grew very aware of his slouching. He couldn't straighten up now, though. That'd be ridiculous. “Just had a feeling.”  
"Mh." Dandilion made, and resumed his earlier position.  
"What did you imagine I'd done?"  
"I didn't imagine anything," Geralt lied.  
"...I find that hard to believe with how red your face has gone, but I won't press you on it." He said, sounding unbearably smug.  
"You're right, as well. But I have also kissed men when I was drunk."  
Geralt laughed, glad that Dandilion couldn't see his face. Nevertheless, he felt like rubbing at his eyes just to hide behind his hand for a while. It felt different then, his body against his. Now that he knew. He thought the scent in his hair grew sharper, too, and wondered if things would change between them now.  
In the back of his mind, he’d always been worried Dandilion would lose interest in him, once he’d won him over for good.  
"And now we can stop talking about it, you're obviously not too happy with the topic. How long do you think til we're by the meadows? I think it's getting dark."  
"Oh – I think – Oh, I think we should be there already. Wait -" Geralt turned around, making Dandilion sit up on his own.  
"Did you miss an exit?"  
"I think I might have."  
"Do we go back?"  
"No," he said, directing Roach to the left. "The meadows reach quite far. I'm sorry. I was lost in thought. I'll put up the tent on my own-"  
"No you won't, it's alright."  
"You can't see in the dark."  
"We'll make a fire."  
"Out of all this lovely rain-drenched wood?"  
"...Oh."  
Geralt hooked his arm back around Dandilion's waist, so he would lean back into him.  
"If we'll be much longer, I'll need my coat. You're lovely and warm and all but my arms are getting cold."  
"Well, you're wearing nothing."  
"Which is precisely what both of us want me to be wearing in the middle of the day, so hush."  
Geralt, once again, was glad for their position.

Perhaps having an oil lamp inside of a tent wasn’t exactly costum but it did make it easier to pick the rest of the undergrowth out of Dandilion's curls. He was laying, face down on the bend of his folded right arm, on one of their blankets, wearing his coat. The minute he’d put it on, he’d said he'd sleep in it too.  
"You know how monkeys bond by picking lice out of each other's hair?"  
"...Have you got lice?"  
"No. But I do feel like we're bonding."  
"I feel like we're already quite bonded."  
Dandilion sighed. "I was going to offer you to return the favor, but nevermind."  
"Well, I don't have half the woods stuck in my hair, Dandilion, I don't know what you could do with it."  
Geralt ran his hand through Dandilion's hair, trying to find any remaining pieces of wood. The bard hummed.  
“Haven't you got a comb?”  
Dandilion sighed. “Somewhere, ” he said. "I can braid it for you."  
"...You know how to braid?"  
"Yes, I know how to braid. Do you know how to braid?"  
"No."  
Dandilion sighed. "That's a shame, I was going to ask you to braid my hair so this won't happen again first thing in the morning, in case this banging doesn't stop and Roach keeps freaking out, but I guess I’m out of luck."  
They did keep hearing the noise. Geralt was thinking it might be some stranger’s way of telling time, it happened too often and yet far in between to be the result of a conflict, it wasn’t reciprocated, and it felt hollow, too, the way it rang in the air.  
"I mean, I can try."  
"Have you ever done it before?"  
"No, but I’ve seen it happen."  
Dandilion nodded. "I'll do it myself."  
"Wise decision."  
"Mh. Will you still let me do yours?"  
"...I suppose."


End file.
